


Moving

by Comedia



Series: New Years Eve [3]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comedia/pseuds/Comedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve moves out of his apartment Tony can't help but worry. The boxes are huge and Steve's tiny; he could totally get crushed carrying them down the stairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving

**Author's Note:**

> How about that, it's been a year, I'm so sorry! I guess updating this during the holidays is kind of becoming tradition at this point, so, here we go again. Gift for [Ebby](http://sexualreapernumerouno.tumblr.com/)! Hope you like it <3

One of the things Tony loves about Steve – and no, he doesn't feel weird about using the word _love_ un-ironically at all – is his stubbornness. It's rare for him to find anyone that will question him and stand their ground no matter what. However. It's because of Steve's stubbornness that he finds himself standing in the staircase of a run-down building, trying to block Steve from exiting his old apartment.

Running a hand through his hair he sighs, and while he may be tired he won't accept defeat. "I'm doing this because I love you, Steve."

Steve gives him a dirty look and only clutches the box closer to his chest. The damn thing is too big for Tony to carry properly; it looks outright ridiculous in Steve's arms.

"You need to let me do this my way." And Tony wants to, except he's already picturing a hundred different scenarios where Steve falls down the stairs, or gets crushed by furniture, or spills paint all over himself only to swallow some of it in the process and ends up dying from being poisoned. They are all very likely scenarios, and Tony has already started thinking about all kinds of blueprints for cybernetic implants… but he'd prefer not having to turn Steve into a robot. It'd be awkward and awful.

"I really don't want you to become a roomba."

Steve doesn’t even bother to give him an answer. Instead he shoulders past Tony and starts carrying the box down the stairs. He makes it down to the ground floor just fine, and on his way back up he’s double-stepping, perhaps only to emphasize how _perfectly fine_ he is. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s out of breath when picking up the second box, and that thoughts of “asthma” and “another fifteen boxes” fill Tony’s mind like poisonous gas.

This time he doesn’t try to block Steve, however, he does help him carry the box down the stairs, and once they’ve placed it on the sidewalk and head back inside he drapes his arm over Steve’s shoulders.

“Could we at least compromise?”

Steve doesn’t exactly reply; it’s more of a grunt, but he doesn’t sound all too hesitant.

“I know you wanna do this the old fashion way, so how about you let me call some people over once we’re halfway done? I’m pretty sure one of us will end up dying in this stairwell, but I had things planned for our new bed once this is over and… _things_.”

He still doesn’t get a proper reply, but Steve does huff an amused snort before picking up the third box. Once again Tony helps him carry it down, and when they put it down on the sidewalk next to the others Steve finally nods. “Okay, I guess.”

They manage to carry the rest of the boxes within an hour, and while Tony gets a couple of nasty papercuts none of them gets crushed and dies an excruciating death, so all in all he considers it a victory. However, sitting down on the staircase he realizes that Steve is all but happy. He’s staring straight ahead, not exactly ignoring Tony, but not looking straight at him either.

For a moment Tony considers sticking his tongue in Steve’s ear, because obviously that would be a very mature way to get his attention, but in the end he decides against it. Instead he once again drapes his arm over Steve’s shoulders and sighs, because seriously, he’s been carrying a lot of boxes and his back is killing him.

“I know you’re not made of porcelain, okay? I know that.” Turning to look at Steve he realizes that he’s still staring straight ahead, and so Tony curls his fingers, caressing Steve’s neck, letting his thumb run along Steve’s jaw. “This is just easier. And you do know that a lot of people hire movers, right?”

When Steve sighs it’s not exactly a reply, but he does lean in to Tony’s touch, and that in itself is enough to prevent Tony from having a heart attack.

They sit in silence during the drive to the tower, but Steve holds his hand the entire time. Once they reach Stark Tower one of the men Tony’s hired actually shrieks, but Steve politely assures them that there’s an elevator available. The man is utterly confused by the comment and seems to be all too busy foaming at the mouth, and it’s a sad thing to say, but Tony is kind of used to this. He approaches one of the other men and promises to pay them double if they keep the lunatic locked up in their delivery truck, and they happily accept.

Having defeated things like his own nervous disposition and crazed fans he’d be happy to have a scotch and go to bed, but this is a big day. A huge day. It’s probably one of the most important things to happen to him, and he’s still unable to properly understand it.

Once the boxes have all been safely delivered to Tony’s floor and the movers have finally left them alone he’s choking up a little, and he can’t even bring himself to feel pathetic about it.

“You’re living here now.”

Steve’s is sitting on the living room floor, busy trying to organize his boxes, but when Tony starts speaking he turns to him with a smile. “Yeah.”

“We’ll make so much food in the kitchen, and I want to do unspeakable things with you in the workshop, and I’m probably going to use your toothbrush by mistake at some point – and I swear it will be a mistake. I’m not obsessed with toothbrushes.” He’s rambling again, partly because he can’t stop himself, and partly because it makes him feel safe. It’s not like he’s just done something he thought he’d probably never do or anything… and let’s not even get into how the entire world thinks he’ll be a complete failure when it comes to settling down, simply because he’s Tony Stark. Actually, he’d have to count himself as part of the entire world – he never saw this day coming until Steve barged into his life.

“I don’t mind you using my toothbrush.”

It might just be one of the worst things someone’s ever told him. He goes weak at the knees and feels slightly disgusted at the same time, and more than anything he wants to grab a hold of Steve and never let go. Instead he pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a pained sound. “Don’t do this to me, Steve.”

He gets nothing but quiet laughter in reply, because apparently Steve has an evil side. Obviously this is something he’d reveal after they’ve moved in together. Not that Tony is bitter; he suspects that wicked-Steve could be a lot of fun.

And it’s already late, so they end up only unpacking a single box. As Steve brings his art supplies to the sofa and starts sorting them on the coffee table Tony actually goes misty eyed, and this time it is kind of pathetic, because it’s not like Steve hasn’t been around before. For crying out loud, he’s spent endless hours in this very room, painting and reading the newspaper to Tony and making out. But Steve putting his things on the table is not the same as Steve bringing his sketchbook and coal one afternoon; suddenly he’s not just decided to drop by. He’s decided to stay. To permanently unpack. To draw the skyline endless times, staining the balcony in the process, and it won’t even matter because this isn’t even Tony’s place anymore. It’s _theirs_.

While Steve moves on to unpacking his canvases Tony searches the boxes until he manages to find the one containing bed sheets. Making sure Steve has his back turned he steals the box away, bringing it to the bedroom and closing the door with great care as not to be discovered.

He’s never been particularly good at making beds, but it’s the gesture that counts. He barely has the time to finish his masterpiece before Steve comes looking for him, freezing in the doorway as he realizes what Tony’s been up to.

At times like these Tony’s reminded of how Steve’s basically a walking paradox. Compared to the enormous doorway he should look nothing but vulnerable, but there’s a smile lighting up his face and confidence in his step  as he joins Tony by the bed, and despite his height he doesn’t seem tiny at all. If anything he’s larger than life.

When Steve grips his shirt – with hands still stained from handling the paint – and stands on his toes, Tony expects nothing more than an old fashioned kiss. Instead there’s hot breath and Steve licking his lips; a light touch meant as nothing more than a tease.

Tony’s never been a fan of teasing.

Without a second thought he pushes Steve down on the bed, only to be pulled down with him in the process. As Steve straddles him he’s happy and breathless and somewhere between being content and panicking completely; having Steve lean down to caress his face, to scratch blunt nails through his beard before finally leaning in for a kiss, feels a lot like salvation.

Letting his hands trace Steve’s thighs he savors the moment the kiss turns filthy – when he captures Steve’s bottom lip with his teeth and feels hands curling in his hair in return. Tony’s been on edge the entire day, but like this, feeling Steve’s breath hitch as he reaches up beneath his shirt, letting his fingertips only brush past his nipples as he’s mapping out skin, an overwhelming sense of calm settles over him.

Returning his hands to Steve’s hips he nudges him a little, and while neither of them is happy to break contact even for a moment Steve lies down next to Tony instead, watching with heavy lidded eyes as Tony reaches for his zipper.

For a long time Steve would have a haunted look in his eyes whenever they were in bed, and it was such a contrast to his normally devil-may-care attitude. The first few times Tony would be caught off guard, and he'd try to handle the situation by making an inappropriate comment or two; in his defense it should be said that he may be hailed as a genius, but that doesn't mean he's actually capable of handling relationships. Anything but. More than anything it perfectly illustrates to how he feels an unnatural attachment to machines and probably shouldn't be allowed around people.

And so he ended up worrying about his performance. Started to wonder if Steve was having second thoughts – it's not like anyone would blame him. Tony Stark has a reputation, after all.

But as the weeks went by Steve's gaze would get warmer, only with a few traces of chilly hesitation around the edges. That's when Tony realized that they were both waiting for everything to crumble. For someone to declare that it had all been a ruse. A scam. A practical joke.

And because Tony's limited ability to form understandable sentences has foiled him before he realized that there was nothing he could possibly say to make Steve worry less. Instead he found the answer in every caress; in every breath; in the touch of his fingertips. To convince them both that this was real – is real – he made it _feel_ real, and it didn't take many weeks for Steve to lose the hesitation completely.

Now, as they’ve spent the day arguing like an actual couple and making up like an actual couple, there’s nothing but warmth in Steve’s eyes as he spreads his legs slightly, helping Tony to quickly take his pants off.

Steve’s tendency to go commando could have some serious consequences in the future – all relating to Tony not being able to keep his mind out of the gutter when in public – but it is more than welcome right now.

Leaning down to kiss Steve’s belly button he continues licking and nipping at the pale skin, knowing how much Steve enjoys the scrape of his beard with each kiss. Trailing a path downwards he takes his time, and soon enough Steve’s squirming beneath him, letting out a breathless laugh once Tony takes him in hand, his grip loose while Steve thrusts into his hand.

It’s uncoordinated, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s not a performance. It’s not about skill. It’s about how Steve can’t seem to take his gaze off him, his eyes bright and smiling. It’s about how it’s so obvious that he holds back when Tony takes him in his mouth, and how he desperately grasps the sheets, coming with Tony’s name on his lips.

He lies down next to Steve, simply snuggling up close to him while he’s catching his breath. A few moments later Steve reaches for him, but Tony catches his hand, kissing him softly as a distraction while he wraps both of them in the duvet.

“Guess what.”

Steve seems almost suspicious, but there’s a content smile on his face as he plays along. “What.”

“You won’t be in a rush to go anywhere tomorrow. So there’s really no need right now. This is enough.” And he’s incoherent as hell, but Steve seems to understand him well enough. He finds Tony’s hand underneath the covers, entwining their fingers and sighing contently.

It’s not exactly the start of something new, but it’s a change all the same. A change that has Tony smiling long into the night, as he thinks of how his tower actually feels like home for the first time in years.


End file.
